Anneliese sat in the single chair before the desk, the chair's low back framing her in stillness. Her fingers hovered near the edge of the table, careful not to brush the map, though her gaze lingered on it with a quiet mix of curiosity and unease.
Vincenzo stood at her side, one hand resting on the back of her chair, the other braced against the desk as he studied the markings. Morning light spilled through the lone window, cutting across the sharp planes of his face and catching in the dark depths of his eyes as they traced the strange patterns.
"They are not roads or borders," he murmured at last, voice low, as though speaking too loudly might stir something hidden within the parchment. "These are ancient seals. Symbols older than even the wars that divided our lands."
